Deluge (1933)
Directed by Felix E. Feist
There’s a certain lizard-brained satisfaction that comes with seeing catastrophic property damage and the near-total annihilation of the human species that has always fascinated me. Felix E. Feist’s Deluge is an early example of a movie tapping into this phenomenon, and it doesn’t do a half-bad job of it. For a time, that is. Once mother nature has her revenge, however, Deluge devolves into a rather silly tale of beefy survivors, leggy olympic swimmers, forced marriages, racial insensitivity, eager and immediate returns to exploitative capitalism, and rape gangs. Where the primitive yet impressive special effects spectacle of the first half shines, the second half is a mishmash of lunacy that would never have passed muster once the Hays Code took effect shortly after its release. In this regard, Deluge remains an interesting example of how racy and weird American cinema once was, but ultimately, its chauvinism and lack of vision tank it in the end. At only 70 minutes long, it’s worth a look (especially considering it was thought lost for nearly 80 years), but don’t bother getting too wrapped up in the story.
Crimson a.k.a. The Man With the Severed Head (1976)
Directed by Juan Fortuny
With no shortage of left-field nudity, casual misogyny, and cinematic incompetence, Juan Fortuny’s Crimson (or The Man with the Severed Head in some circles) doesn’t have much to offer outside its rather pulpy premise. In short, a jewel thief (Paul Naschy) is in desperate need of a brain transplant after a botched robbery and must rely on a disgraced surgeon (Ricardo Palmerola) and an experimental procedure to save his life. Naturally, the ghouls in charge of finding a fresh specimen for said procedure choose the jewel thief’s biggest rival, a gangster known only as “The Sadist” (Roberto Mauri). Crimson, despite its misleading title, is completely bloodless but does feature a number of completely tasteless and violent sex scenes that completely ruin what could have been a half-enjoyable campy exploitation film. I guess 70s-era male directors can be counted on for something at least.
The Jackal (1997)
Directed by Michael Caton-Jones
Bruce Willis’ hairpiece stars as the world’s deadliest assassin in this hackneyed remake of Fred Zinnemann’s 1973 political thriller, The Day of the Jackal. Not a second of this film has a strong grounding in reality, as director Michael Caton-Jones eschews common sense from every single character until there’s nothing left but a cold pile of gray mush. To help with this dulling of the senses, Caton-Jones, for some dimwitted reason, brings Richard Gere to the table as Declan Mulqueen, the most stereotyped IRA member this side of a Tom Clancy novel. With Gere’s completely tone-deaf Irish accent in tow, The Jackal spirals down the drain into an easily forgettable dime-a-dozen ‘90s thriller.
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.